Warmth
by TwiceBorn
Summary: You hold her as tight as you dare without hurting her.


_Just a few more_, you tell yourself. But after several hours of reading, digesting, and signing requisition documents, even turning another page is soul-crushing effort. By the end, all the words blur into one indecipherable mess.

Sighing, you set your pen down and rub your bleary eyes. The small pile of reports you need to finish might as well be a mountain this late at night.

"Do you need a break, sir?"

The voice is clipped, stern, but you hear the note of concern through the fogginess in your brain. A T-Doll with pale blonde hair stands patiently at your side, her maid-like outfit a curious throwback compared to your modern office.

"Nah," you groan. "Gotta get this pile done by 0300-I'm behind thanks to all the recent Sangvis raids." You notice her slender hands buried in a stack of papers, in the midst of tackling the Sisyphean task of keeping your office organized. "Go on ahead without me, I'll be done with this soon.

Reading G36 is an art. To most, she's like a doll in that older sense: cold, aloof, direct. Duty where her emotions should be. Steel where others are silk. But she's been your adjutant for four months now, and a trusted subordinate for longer than that. When her eyes narrow by a fraction, when her lips twitch downwards by millimeters, she looks as stoic and unmoving as ever to others. To you, though, she might as well be sobbing.

"I'll get you some coffee before I leave, sir," she says as she strides over to the machine in the corner, a note of urgency in her steps. A jaw-breaking yawn interrupts your reply.

"Don't-don't worry about it, '36. I'll be hitting the sack in a few anyhow. You go get some rest; we got a busy day tomorrow."

"But sir-"

"That's an order."

She stops. Aquamarine eyes stare into yours, bordering on a glare. You wonder if she'll disobey.

"Then...could I ask you for a favor, sir?" Her hands clench ever so slightly.

You raise an eyebrow at that. G36, asking for a favor? Truly, today is the day of days. "Sure. What is it?"

"Could you stand up?"

You're not sure what she's up to, but you do as she says. Everything hurts as you haul yourself out of your chair and move your sore, neglected muscles.

G36 says, "Swing your arms in circles, please. Slowly." You do so. "Now roll your neck and shoulders." You obey, and you start feeling better already.

"'36," you chuckle as you start stretching out your back, "if you want me to do calisthenics, you can just ask-"

"Put your arms out to the side. As far as you can." You raise an eyebrow and pause, wondering if this is some sort of practical joke, before you remember who it is you're talking about. Just as she asked, you raise your arms up, away from your body and parallel to the floor, and wait to see what she does next.

She moves forward and gives you a hug.

"I've been told that physical contact can boost endorphin production," murmurs your adjutant into your chest. "This should have an analgesic effect and help you relax."

"Oh…" you say, numbly. You have no idea what to do with your arms. A stream of meaningless babbling comes out of your mouth until you finally manage, "Uhm, alright...then."

Her voice grows softer. "Additionally, Dolls from other sectors tell me that they're frequently under-supplied due to their commanders' disregard for logistics. The entire time I've been here, however, I've never felt lacking for anything." She hesitates. "Also, I...G36c...she told me you brought her and her squad back safely from today's mission. An ambush, as I recall. She said she wouldn't have made it back without your guidance, sir."

A chuckle escapes your lips. "I'm just doing my job, '36. What's brought this on?"

"I wanted to say 'thank you', sir," she says as she presses into you. "For everything."

At last, you let your arms wrap themselves around your adjutant. You hold her as tight as you dare without hurting her.

She's warm-like an afternoon breeze on a sunny June day, a mug of hot chocolate on a cold December night. The soft scent from her flaxen head reminds you of freshly-baked bread and morning coffee. The two of you say nothing as you stand there in the empty office, embracing each other like lost lovers. After a minute that feels like forever, the two of you part silently and get back to work, then quietly bid each other goodnight when it's done.

* * *

When you wake up the next morning, G36 is at your bedside, like always, and she has a croissant on a little plate and a cup of wake-me-up with cream and two sugars. She placidly recites the morning news as you get yourself dressed, as per usual, and you wonder if last night was just a fatigue-fueled delusion.

Your adjutant makes no mention of it throughout the rest of the day. And so the hours pass as they always do.

But in the evening, you accidentally brush her shoulder on the way back to your quarters, and there it is again. That softness. That unforgettable warmth.

And from the way her cheeks glow as she smiles, she hasn't forgotten, either.


End file.
